Stood Up
by OrangeLlyan
Summary: Blind dates are terrible. They're even worse when you're stood up. Except if being stood up leads to meeting someone interesting. My (short) take on how Tim and Delilah met and started off their relationship.
1. Stood Up

_A/N: So we've never really been told how or even when Tim and Delilah met. This is my take on their first meeting(s) from Delilah's point of view as she meets our Elf Lord for the first time. Just a short two-shot story showing how our lovable geeks met and bonded over science._

 _For context, I did some extrapolation backwards to get a rough time frame of when they may have met. She was first mentioned in_ 10x24 Damned If You Do _, when Tim mentioned that he had a source in the DoD that got them information on Parsons while he was investigating their team. I figured that they had probably known each other for a little while since Delilah doesn't seem like the type to slip information to a guy she just met just to impress him. She didn't tell Tim she was back in DC during Status Update and they were a far more established couple then. With that in mind, this story is set between rescuing Ducky and Jimmy in_ Detour _and before they arrested the kidnapper at Palmer's gym locker the next day._

* * *

"It's just a drink," Liz said as she leaned against the door frame.

"It's a blind date," she said sourly as she adjusted her top without making any improvements, at least in her mind. Growling in frustration, she removed it and threw the offending garment onto her bed in heap along with several other rejected articles of clothing. She went back to her closet for another option, scanning over the rows of shirts, mentally eliminating options as she went.

"There was nothing wrong with that shirt!" Liz said in frustration. "Or the last five before it."

She found a grey top and pulled it on. A vee neckline that wasn't too plunging but also wasn't too conservative. Feminine but didn't scream easy. Comfortable so she wouldn't be thinking about her clothes.

She went back to the mirror and nodded, finally satisfied. She ran her hands through her hair again, putting it back into place.

"I've never liked blind dates," she muttered as she looked at her roommate.

"No one does," Liz replied. "But you need to get back on the horse." She turned and glared at Liz. "Ok not literally," Liz said hastily. "No one is expecting you to go home with this guy. Just go out, have a drink, talk and take that first step to get past Samson."

"And I don't like that you call him that," she muttered.

"Oh, come on," she said. "It's funny."

She bit her tongue. She wasn't in the mood to argue the point with her roommate. It was bad enough that she had really liked him. At least until she found out he was selling drugs on the black market. It didn't matter that it wasn't party drugs. Somehow, the fact that he sold things like steroids seemed to make it worse. It was more palatable than if he was selling cocaine but it was still illegal.

Was it too much to ask to find a nice guy who was smart, funny, and not a criminal?

Liz sighed. "Look, the worst-case scenario is that you have a drink and come home. The alternative is to spend your Friday night here in your pajamas watching mind-numbing television on Netflix."

She bit back a retort. That was exactly what Liz planned to do. Then again, that was because her boyfriend was out of town for the weekend.

She sighed.

"Who is he again?" she asked.

"Alexander Brady," Liz said with a smile. "Or Brady Alexander?" she asked, suddenly uncertain.

"You know, it'd be really good to know which one it is," she said. "It does not make a good first impression if you call the guy by the wrong name."

Liz pulled out her phone and looked at it. "Brady Alexander," Liz said. "He's an engineer. He works for the Army Corps of Engineers. He's a civilian but he served in the Army for eight years."

Liz held out her phone to show her a picture. He wasn't bad looking. Black hair with a military haircut. Seemed to be in good shape still. Square jaw, high cheekbones, clean shaven. A little stoic for a candid shot though.

"He's cute," Liz said as she looked at the picture.

"Then you go on the date with him," she retorted as she made her way to the front door.

"Delilah," Liz said in exasperation.

"Elisabeth," she responded in kind. Liz stared at her until she relented. "Fine," she said as she grabbed her coat and purse.

"I'll call you in an hour in case you want an escape hatch," Liz said.

"Thank you," she said as she left their apartment. She called an Uber and took it to the agreed upon restaurant that was about halfway between their respective apartments.

It looked to be a local hangout and had a nice mix of families and younger people. There was a largish restaurant in the main room and a smaller bar in an adjacent room. It was clean, filled with friendly chatter and had a few televisions showing a hockey game although most people weren't paying attention to it.

She stepped into the bar and took a seat three from the end where she had a good view of the entrance but wasn't in the way. Only about half of the stools were occupied and those were mostly at the far end of the bar.

"Hi," a female bartender said. "Can I get you something?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I'm just waiting for someone."

The bartender eyed her. "Blind date?" she asked.

Startled, she asked, "How'd you know?"

"I've seen that look before," the woman replied. The bartender began to prepare a glass but before she could object, she realized the woman hadn't added any alcohol. "Cranberry and tonic with a twist of lime," the bartender said as she handed it to her. "Best way to look like you're having a drink without having a drink."

"Thanks," she said gratefully. The last thing she wanted was to get drunk on a blind date.

"If you have any trouble with this guy, ask for Angela," the bartender said.

"Is that your name?" she asked.

"No," the bartender said. "Trisha." She must have looked confused because Trisha leaned on the bar and said softly, "There's a sign in the bathroom that explains it. It's our code word for ladies who are worried about their blind dates. Ask for Angela and we'll make sure you get out of here safely."

"Thanks," she said. "My roommate is going to call too."

Trisha laughed as she left to see to the party down at the other end of the bar.

She sipped the drink as she waited. The bar was slowly filling up until there were only two open seats to her left.

Suddenly a man took the seat at the far end of the bar, leaving the stool next to her as the only open seat.

She frowned as her phone rang. Liz's photo appeared.

She looked at the time. He was twenty minutes late.

"Well?" Liz asked.

"He's not here yet," she said. "Which I should probably take as a sign..."

"Give him a little more time," Liz implored. "Maybe traffic is bad."

"Fine," she said.

The bartender refilled her glass with the non-alcoholic cocktail before she went down to see to the man at the end of the bar.

"What can I get you?" Trisha asked.

She glanced at the man. He was tall, had a stocky build and looked tired. He was wearing a dress shirt and a sport coat over a pair of jeans and work boots. Looking at her drink, she tried to figure out what he did for a living based on that weird collection of clothing.

"Actually, I'm going to order food," the man said. Trisha reached for a menu but he waved her off. "Just a cheeseburger and fries."

"Anything to drink?"

He hesitated. "Just water, I have to be up early tomorrow."

"You look like you could use a drink," Trisha said wryly.

"Yeah," he replied as he ran his hand through his hair. "It's been a long day. But like I said, I have to be up early tomorrow. Just the burger."

"Coming right up," Trisha said.

She returned her focus to her non-drink drink as he looked up at the television. But unlike the rest of the bar, he didn't seem to have any interest in the hockey game. Not that she thought that the bar was interested in the game but the overtime shootout was beginning to draw attention.

She cast a glance at him again as she tried to figure out if he was her blind date. She could picture an engineer wearing an outfit like that. But even in the dim light of the bar, she could tell that his hair was lighter than the photo Liz had showed her.

"Here you go," Trisha said as she returned with a plate of food. He looked towards her as he collected a bottle of ketchup for his fries.

Nope, not her date. Not bad looking but he wasn't the man she was waiting for.

She glanced at her watch again. Her date was thirty minutes late. She'd give him a few more minutes.

She reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. Grabbing a napkin, she started to work through the code she had been having trouble with earlier. If she was going to sit in a bar waiting for this Alexander Brady or Brady Alexander, she might as well be productive.

As she worked, she occasionally glanced at the man at the end of the bar. He ate and sporadically checked his phone but mostly he seemed intent on eating as quickly as possible. The plate was already empty. It was like he hadn't eaten in some time.

"You practically inhaled that burger," Trisha said as she took his cleared plate.

"I hadn't eaten since lunch," he replied as he handed her his credit card. "I was out in the field most of the day." Trisha nodded and turned away to process the payment.

"And you have to be up early tomorrow?" Trisha asked as she returned with the slips. "You have to work on a Saturday?"

"It could be worse," he replied. "At least I don't have the night shift too."

"True," Trisha said as she scrambled for a pen. "Hang on, let me find a pen. I'm always losing them."

"I have one," he said as he pulled a pen from his pocket and filled out the slip. "Thanks," he said as Trisha took it and hurried down to the other end of the bar where a group was calling for service.

He stood up and grabbed his winter coat from the bar stool. She focused on her work so she didn't stare at him as he walked by.

"Coding at a bar?" he asked.

Startled, she looked up. The man had stopped at her side and was looking down at her napkins. She had spread her code and notes over six different napkins.

"Yeah," she replied as she flushed slightly. Now that she got to see him head on, he was cuter than in profile. "Trying to solve a problem," she said.

"I see that," he said as he looked at her scribbling while glancing at her. "Trying to compare two databases and flag connections?"

"Yeah," she said surprised. "You figured that out from these scraps of code?"

"I've written something similar," he said with a shrug.

"Comparing two databases isn't that hard," she said hastily. "But it isn't easy trying to get the program to pick out the connections when they may not be intuitive even to a human user."

"Either you get no results or too many," he said.

"Yeah," she replied as she looked up at him. He smiled empathetically. "You know most guys would have made some comment about a girl knowing how to code that they meant to be flattering but was really just patronizing." He looked confused, as if he didn't understand why someone would equate her gender with her ability to code. She laughed as his eyebrows knit together. "And that didn't occur to you. That's nice."

The man looked at her and relaxed. He then smiled.

"I couldn't help overhearing that you had to get up early tomorrow," she said. His expression fell. She could tell that he thought she was trying to get rid of him. "But maybe you might stay a little while anyway?" She watched as he processed what she said, and his expression changed.

"You weren't waiting for someone?" he asked as he looked at the empty stool.

"I was," she replied. He looked confused so she shook her head quickly. "My roommate set me up on a blind date." She looked at her watch. "He was supposed to be here over an hour ago so I guess I have officially been stood up. As far as I'm concerned, it's all yours if you'd like."

"I'd love to," he said with a smile. "Can I get you another?" he asked as he motioned to her nearly empty drink.

"How about I buy you what I'm having?" she asked. He started to protest but she caught the Trisha's eye. "Two cranberry and tonics with a twist of lime." The man relaxed and nodded. "Delilah Fielding," she said as she held out her hand.

"Timothy McGee," he replied as he took a seat next to her.

"Are you a programmer?" she asked.

"It's more of a hobby but I occasionally get to incorporate it into my job," Tim replied.

She glanced as her notes. "It must be some hobby if you recognized the code that quickly."

"Oh, well," he said hastily. "I got a masters in computer forensics from MIT."

"MIT," she said. He nodded. "Johns Hopkins," she said.

He brightened. "I did an undergrad degree in biomedical engineering at Johns Hopkins," he said. "I loved it there."

"So, you went from biomedical engineering to computer forensics?" she asked. That didn't seem too intuitive of a transition.

"Actually, I went from Computer Engineering to Computer forensics to biomedical engineering," he said. "My first degree was also at MIT." He sipped his drink.

"Didn't know what you wanted to be when you grew up?" she asked wryly.

He laughed. "Seems that way, doesn't it?" he asked. "I was mostly just biding my time. I started at MIT at sixteen. I got the biomedical degree while I was working cyber security at a bank." He chuckled. "I hated every minute of it and I needed a distraction."

"You know, most people would take up a hobby instead of getting another degree," she said.

He shrugged. "I liked school though," he said. "It was one of the few places I felt like I fit in."

"I know what you mean," she said. "Not many girls in Wisconsin are more excited about coding than boys and the latest fashion." He looked at her sympathetically. "What about you. Where's home?"

"I think the better question is: where wasn't home," he replied as he sipped his drink. "I was a navy brat. We moved every two or three years. I've lived all over the world. San Diego, Norfolk, Japan, Italy, Australia. But I was born in Bethesda and I've lived here for more than ten years, so I guess I can officially say that Washington is home."

"Seeing all those places sounds exciting," she replied. She had traveled but not nearly that extensively. "But I guess it must have been tough moving so often."

He nodded. "In hindsight, it was a great experience," he said. "Not many kids get to travel the world like I did. But at the time, it was hard moving so much." He swirled his drink with his straw. "I think that's why I was so comfortable in school. It was one of the few constants I had."

"I wish some of the people in my school would have moved away," Delilah muttered. He looked at her with amusement. "Hazard of living in a small town. I went to school with the same people from kindergarten until I graduated."

"That doesn't sound so bad," he said. "Every time I made friends, either I would move, or they would move. I saw a lot of the same people, but I never had a consistent group of friends."

"I did but on the down side, it was the same drama year after year with the same cliques." She smiled wryly. "That was why I liked coding."

"No drama," he said.

"Yeah," she replied as their eyes met.

She blushed and looked away. It was silly; she felt like a tongue-tied teenager instead of a grown adult. She had never felt so flustered upon meeting a guy. She needed to get herself under control.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was blushing too and trying hard to conceal it behind his drink. She was surprised but pleased that he seemed just as flustered as she was.

Suddenly she spied her notes.

Well, they both liked coding.

"Any suggestions?"

"Huh?" he asked in confusion.

"About my code?" she asked as she motioned to her scattered notes. Tim smiled in relief and looked at her notes. After a moment, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a notepad and his pen. "You keep a notepad in your pocket?"

"Yeah, you never know when you might need to write code on the fly," he said with a little laugh.

"Hey, would you mind shifting down a seat?"

Jolting, they both looked at a group of people who were eying them and the empty stool to their left.

Suddenly a pair left a high top in the corner. She caught his eye and looked towards the table. He nodded and followed her. They sat down just as a waitress picked up the empty glasses.

"So, about your code," he said.

"Right," she said as she started describing her issues. They worked through some of the code but eventually the code was forgotten as they began to talk about other things, on topics ranging from the latest in online security to the real-life science inspired by Star Trek. He was easy to talk to and definitely easy on the eyes. He was smart and funny in a nerdy kind of way.

And there was something genuine about him too.

Suddenly she felt her phone vibrating in her purse.

"Sorry," she said as she hastily dug it out. She had just missed a call from Liz and had four other missed calls and six text messages. And it was almost one in the morning. "Oh geez," she said. "It's really late. My roommate is freaking out."

She hastily texted Liz that she was ok, and that she'd be home soon. She could practically feel the relief ooze out of her phone when Liz replied.

Tim pulled out his phone and his eyes widened in shock. He looked at his watch in disbelief.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "You had to get up early tomorrow. Well today…"

"Don't be sorry," he said as he looked at her. "Meeting you is worth a little lost sleep."

She looked at him and smiled. He wasn't trying to flirt even though that was the effect he had. He was being genuine when he meant his sleep deprivation was worth it.

She reached out and grabbed his notebook. She turned it to a fresh page and wrote down her number.

"I'd really like to see you again," she said as she slid it back to him. "I really enjoyed talking with you tonight. I've never been so happy to be stood up before."

"Whoever he was, it was his loss," Tim said as he smiled at the number. He turned the page and wrote down his number. He tore it from the book and handed it to her. "But I won't complain. I'm happy we met." She nodded, accepting the page. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"I can catch an Uber," she said as she pulled up the app. She put in her information and saw that a car wasn't far away. "I just need to settle my bill…"

"The bartender dropped it off," Tim said as he pulled out his wallet. "Let me pay..." But as she turned over the slip, she saw, 'Angela paid your tab.' Tim looked at her in confusion, but she looked at Trisha. She was smiling. "Do you know who Angela is?"

"A friend," she replied as she stood up. He looked confused but didn't press. He helped her to put on her coat before he pulled on his. "I take it you live close by?"

"Yeah," he replied as they walked to the front of the bar. "That's actually why I came here for dinner. I wanted something quick." He shrugged lightly. "But Ducky says: sometimes what we want and what we need are two very different things."

"You have a friend named Ducky?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "It's a nickname."

"Let me guess, he's a really big fan of _Sixteen Candles_ ," she said.

"You know, I'm not sure," Tim replied thoughtfully. "His name is Donald Mallard." She looked at him incredulously. "What?" he asked.

"You are an interesting man, Timothy McGee," she said as her car pulled up. "I'm really glad we met."

"Me too," he said as he looked outside. "I guess that's your car." She nodded. Their eyes met, and she could see he didn't want to say goodbye either. It was as if he was afraid of breaking the spell of what turned out to be a magical night.

"Good night," she said as she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but she had already bolted through the cold for the car. She greeted the driver through the window and got into the back seat. As the driver pulled away, she looked at Tim.

He was standing outside of the bar, oblivious to the cold air and smiling drunkenly even though they hadn't had a drop of liquor. She waved and smiled at him as the car pulled away.

With the late night and the cold weather, the streets were nearly deserted and they made good time towards her apartment.

Suddenly her phone chirped. Looking down, she saw a text from an unfamiliar number.

Opening her phone, she clicked on the message.

' _Just wanted to make sure I didn't lose your number. Can't wait to talk again, Tim McGee.'_

She took a moment and programmed his name into her phone. Then on a whim, she took a screenshot of the entry in her contacts list and texted it back to him.

' _Made sure your number is in my phone, so I can respond right away,'_ she typed under the photo and hit send before she thought better of it.

She had just arrived home when she heard another chirp. But she let it wait while she tipped the driver and hurried into her apartment building.

Pausing just inside the entryway, she pulled out her phone and saw a text from Tim. Opening it, she saw a picture of her contact information saved just above a Donald 'Ducky' Mallard.

Laughing, she made her way up to her apartment where she found Liz sitting on the couch in her pajamas watching something on Netflix.

"Well that must have gone well," Liz said with a smile that said, 'I told you so.' "Do you know how late it is, young lady?"

She pulled off her coat and dropped her purse onto the side table.

"I do," she replied as Liz turned off the television. "But Alexander or Brady or whatever his name was, he never turned up."

"You were stood up?" Liz asked. She nodded as she toed off her shoes. "I wouldn't have predicted that." Liz turned to her. "What were you doing all this time then?"

"Talking," she said. "To a very handsome and very interesting guy I met at the bar."

Liz stared at her, utterly flabbergasted.

"You picked up a guy at the bar?" Liz asked finally.

"Actually, it was the other way around, maybe," she said. She thought about it. "It might have been mutual. Not that it matters. Apparently, I was fishing with the wrong bait."

"Delilah!" Liz said.

"I got bored waiting for Brad…"

"Brady."

"Whatever," she said. "I got bored waiting for him to turn up so I started working on some code on a napkin. Tim was a few seats down eating dinner and he not only knew what the code was from the few scraps I had written but he helped me work out some bugs."

She jolted.

"What?" Liz asked in alarm.

"All our work is in his notebook," she said suddenly. But then she grinned. Now she had a really good reason to contact him again.

"Good for you," Liz said as she turned off the television. "Now I'm going to bed. Worrying about you really took it out of me."

Getting up, she looked at her friend. "I'm sorry I worried you. But I really didn't see your messages. I was talking with Tim and not looking at my phone."

"No problem," Liz said. "I want to hear details in the morning!" she called in a singsong voice.

Smiling, she went to her room and sat down on her bed.

She had never been so happy to have been stood up in her life.


	2. Worth the Wait

Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,  
Could ever hear by tale or history,  
The course of true love never did run smooth;

 _Lysander, A Midsummer Night's Dream_

* * *

She frowned as she looked in the mirror for the hundredth time.

"Why are you so nervous?" Liz asked as she leaned against the door frame. "It isn't like this is a blind date."

"No," she retorted. "But this is a real date and I want it to go well."

Growling in frustration, she pulled off her top and went digging in her closest for something different.

"There was nothing wrong with that shirt!" Liz said.

"Or the five before that?" she said. Their eyes met at the familiar exchange. "Yeah, déjà vu."

Liz softened. "Well you remember how that went," Liz said.

"Yeah," she replied. "I got stood up."

"But you met Tim," Liz said. "And considering the lame excuses Brad offered…"

"Alexander," she said correcting her roommate.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it was Brady not Brad," Liz said. "Not that it matters. His excuses were terrible. Pretty sure you dodged a bullet there. Tim sounds like a much better guy."

"I won't argue with you there," she replied. "We've been talking and texting for two weeks and this is the first time our schedules have lined up enough for us to plan a nice dinner and I'd _really_ like it to go well."

She found a different shirt and pulled it on. A round neckline that showed off more of her shoulders. A necklace from her grandmother. Feminine and maybe a little sexy. She wasn't expecting to go home with him but she did want to potentially gage his interest in that department.

"Ok, that one is much better," Liz admitted. She looked at her pointedly. "You know, when you look at me like that, it's worse than an 'I told you so.'"

"That's kind of the point," she said as she hurried to fix her hair again. She looked at Liz. "Well?"

"You look great," Liz said. "And this time I won't wait up."

She flushed. "I'm not planning to go home with him."

"I didn't think you were but now I know you want to," Liz said with a grin. She rolled her eyes. "I meant: I have a feeling you're going to end up talking until all hours of the night again."

"I hope so," she said as she left her room and collected her coat. "I can't imagine we won't," she said. "We've been texting and emailing since we first met and we haven't run out of things to say yet."

She pulled on her coat and grabbed her purse.

"Knock 'em dead," Liz said as she left.

She called an Uber and took the car to the restaurant. They had picked a nice restaurant but something that was still casual. When she arrived, she took a seat in the bar and ordered a cranberry and tonic with a twist of lime, something she knew would make Tim smile.

She idly watched the television in the bar as she sipped her drink until she finished it.

Looking down at her phone, she realized it was nearly fifteen minutes past the time they were supposed to meet.

Frowning, she sent Tim a text message.

' _At the restaurant. Are you running late?'_

She left her phone on the bar as she waited for a response but after ten minutes, there was no reply.

Frowning again, this time she called him but his phone went straight to voicemail.

"Hey Tim," she said trying to sound more cheerful than she was feeling. "I'm at the restaurant at the bar. It's seven-thirty. Hoping you're just running late or stuck in traffic. Call me."

She set her phone down and refused a second drink from the bartender. She watched her phone like a hawk and after another fifteen minutes, she picked up her phone.

' _Still waiting. Hope you're not standing me up.'_ She added a winking smiley face and sent the message.

But a half hour later, Tim still hadn't arrived and he hadn't called or messaged her. Without any other way to contact him, she grabbed her purse and left. She had checked with the staff and he wasn't waiting for her inside the restaurant, nor had he called the restaurant to leave her a message.

She took a car home and unconsciously slammed the door shut as she entered.

Liz looked up from the couch.

"Why are you home so early?" Liz asked. "Please don't tell me he was a jerk."

"I don't know," she replied. "He never turned up." She hung up her coat. "So, I guess that makes him kind of a jerk." She considered it. "Yes. He's a jerk."

"Oh, Dee," Liz said sympathetically.

"I really thought he was different, Lizzy," she said. "He didn't text or call to say he was running late. And he didn't reply to my texts and his phone went straight to voicemail."

"You don't think something is wrong?" Liz asked.

"I have no idea," she replied. "On one hand, I hope so because it's the most logical explanation for why he isn't answering and why he didn't show. But on the other hand, I feel horrible for thinking that!"

She sat down on the couch heavily.

"I'm sure there's a good explanation," Liz said as she looked at her. She frowned as she kicked off her shoes and pulled her knees up to her chest. "You don't have any other way to contact him?" Liz asked.

"Just his email," she replied. "I'll try that if I don't hear from him by tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry, Delilah," Liz said. "Is there anything you need?"

"Yeah," she said. "I need a pizza." Liz stared at her. "What? I'm hungry! I didn't get dinner, remember?"

"Good point," Liz said as she pulled up an app on her phone. A few buttons later and a pizza was on the way. She watched as Liz got up and walked to their fridge. She returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. "You also need this."

Liz opened the bottle and poured her a glass.

"Thanks," she said as she accepted the wine.

After a couple glasses of wine and some food, she felt better but she still went to bed feeling slightly betrayed which was funny considering that she'd only met this guy once and it was only two weeks ago. But over the last few weeks, she had started to get a feel for Timothy McGee and an inconsiderate jerk wasn't him.

In fact, he was almost overly polite, something he claimed was instilled in him by his father who was a lifelong Navy Officer. She had done some research and based off the clues he had dropped, she was pretty sure that Tim's father was highly ranked and was at least an Admiral, which explained Tim's protocols.

And that's why it didn't track that he had fallen off the grid.

She fell asleep wondering if something bad had happened to him.

Sometime in the middle of the night, her phone buzzed, drawing her from her sleep. She might have fallen back to sleep but the phone began to buzz incessantly as several messages came in.

"All right," she said as she grabbed the phone and turned it on. She blinked as the bright light hurt her eyes. Before she could focus, the screen went dark. Turning it on again, she saw several new messages from Tim McGee.

Propping herself up, she opened the messages.

 _Delilah, I am so sorry, but I have to cancel our dinner tonight. Something came up at work and I have to go out of town for a while. I'm not sure how long it will be for so I can't be sure when I'll be back to reschedule._

 _Unfortunately, I won't have access to my phone or personal email. But I promise you I am very upset that I had to miss dinner with you tonight. I had been really looking forward to seeing you again. But duty calls and I go where the job takes me._

 _As soon as I'm back, I'll contact you so I can explain everything but mostly so I can see you again. Trust me when I say I haven't been this excited about meeting someone in a very long time._

 _I know this is all very cryptic, but I hope that you can trust me and be patient so that I can explain myself when I see you next._

She read the messages twice more and frowned. He hadn't responded to any of her messages from the restaurant. Had his messages been delayed for some reason? Or was this just an elaborate excuse to justify standing her up?

She read the messages again.

He was going somewhere without access to his phone or email and he didn't say where he was or when he would be back.

She blinked and looked at the wall. Now that she thought about it, she didn't know where he worked. She had mentioned that she worked for the Department of Defense but that didn't say anything about her job. The DoD was huge and employed hundreds of programmers.

But Tim hadn't mentioned his field of work let alone _where_ he worked. She only knew that he could occasionally incorporate some programming into his job. From what he had told her, she had guessed that he worked for a government agency but that didn't narrow the options down in this city.

Their discussions since they had met had largely been about programming, comic books, various scientific studies they found interesting or the _Game of Thrones_ books. She had no idea what he did for a living.

When they had met, he had been wearing jeans, muddy work boots, a dress shirt and coat. She had thought he might be an engineer but after talking to him for two weeks, she didn't think that was right. He had mentioned a love of writing and hinted that he had been published but she hadn't found any books authored by any Timothy McGee, at least that she could find on Amazon.

His Facebook page was devoid of any work information but it did show photos of him with his sister and doing charity work for Habitat for Humanity among other charitable organizations. Then again, he wasn't a frequent poster so the information included on it was thin at best. There was enough information to convince her that he was a real person and not a bot but nothing personal enough to tell her anything about Tim McGee.

A strange thought popped into her head.

Was she dating some kind of spy?

This was D.C. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

"Delilah, your imagination is running away with itself," she said as she set her phone off to the side. "Tim is a normal guy. There is no way he is a spy. I'm sure there is a perfectly logical reason he had to go out of town."

She lay back and closed her eyes.

But isn't that what a good spy would make her think?

Tim was normal, sweet, charming, and unassuming. In a crowd, he would blend in. He was attractive but not someone who would draw attention for his looks. He was smart – really smart – and as she thought back to their first meeting, he was observant. She knew that he was taking in far more about the patrons in the bar than she was.

He knew about computers but only occasionally got to use his knowledge in his work. He was athletic and fit and the day she had met him, he had 'been in the field' for the day.

"I'm dating a spy," she said to herself as she sat up.

She picked up the phone and read through the messages again.

"Sudden disappearance, vague destination, out of contact, duty calls?" she asked herself. Flopping back on her pillow, she sighed. Why couldn't she find a normal guy?

Setting her phone to the side, she curled up and tried to go back to sleep but sleep was elusive.

She kept turning the facts over in her mind and the more she thought of it, the more she was convinced she was right.

She didn't dare tell Liz her suspicions because she knew her roommate would tell her that she was crazy. And for a little while, she thought she was crazy. But the more she thought about it over the following five days, the more she became absolutely certain she was right.

So, by the time she got a text message from Tim six days later, she wasn't sure she was going to respond. As much as she liked Tim, she wasn't sure she could deal with the drama, the uncertainty, and the frustration of dating a spy. _Especially_ after she just ended things with a criminal. She wanted someone _normal_.

Tim's message came through at four in the morning and the buzzing once again woke her.

 _Delilah, I just got back and I was hoping you would meet me at Capitol Coffee on 18_ _th_ _and E before work. I know I'm asking you to leave earlier than usual but I really feel I owe you an explanation for my sudden disappearance. And I really want to apologize for breaking our date._

She frowned when she realized he hadn't wanted to reschedule their date.

Tossing the phone back on her bedside table, she closed her eyes, but she never returned to a deep sleep. So, when her alarm went off, she pulled herself from bed and went about her morning routine. When she was dressed, she grabbed her bag and stepped into their living room.

Liz was dressed in a robe and had her hair wrapped up in a towel.

"What's with that face?" Liz asked.

"What face?" she asked trying to act innocently.

"Delilah," Liz said warningly.

Annoyed that her roommate had seen through her, she sighed.

"I got a message from Tim," she said. "He asked me to meet him for coffee before work. He wants to explain everything."

"Ok, so what's the problem?" Liz asked as she rubbed her wet hair with a towel.

"He stood me up!" she retorted. It should have been obvious to her roommate. "And then suddenly wants to see me?"

"At least he wants to see you to talk it over in person, unlike Alex…"

"Brady," she said correcting Liz.

"Who offered some lame text apology for standing you up and then never contacted you again," Liz finished without correcting herself. "Isn't the price of coffee worth hearing what he's got to say?"

"And why should I give Tim a second chance?" she asked. "He stood me up after he picked me up after I was stood up!"

"I thought you said you picked him up?" Liz asked. She looked at her roommate sourly. "Oh, don't be mad at him until you hear his explanation! Then you can be mad at him." She pulled a face at Liz. "Seriously, if you don't hear his excuse you'll be kicking yourself for days. Go, hear what he has to say, get a free cup of coffee and then you can forget him."

"Fine," she said. She sent Tim a message indicating that she was leaving her apartment and could be there in twenty minutes. She had just grabbed her bag when Tim responded that he would see her there. She frowned at his prompt response.

She took the bus to the coffee shop and stepped inside.

It was busy with the businessmen and women heading into the office but that meant that almost all the tables were empty, except one in the corner occupied by Timothy McGee. He was dressed in a slightly rumpled blue-gray button-down shirt under a light jacket, tan pants and work boots. He had three cups of coffee on the table and a single sunflower.

Taking a deep breath, she walked over to his table and sat down, startling him. He had closed his eyes, crossed his arms and had apparently dozed off.

He jolted and pushed himself upright, looking around blearily as he gained his bearings.

"Are you ok?" she asked, her suspicions momentarily overridden by concern.

"Oh, hey," he said perking up as he caught sight of her. "Yeah. Just really tired. I just got back into town." She looked at him. His clothes did seem rumpled and… dusty? "Sorry for the way I look. I haven't been home yet."

She nodded but didn't say anything.

"I got you a coffee," he said as he motioned to the cup. "Cream, a sugar and a vanilla shot."

"How'd you know that's how I like my coffee?" she asked suspiciously.

"I didn't," he said honestly. "It's what I ordered," he said. "I was holding up the line trying to guess what you'd like and the barista just made three instead of waiting for me to decide."

"You ordered yourself two coffees?" she asked as she sipped the coffee.

"I haven't really slept in two days," he replied honestly. "Or really five days. Has it been five days since we were supposed to have dinner?"

"Six," she said evenly even as she wondered how he would lose track of the day of the week.

He squinted as he seemed to be going over recent events to verify that he had missed an additional day. Shaking his head, he gave up that pursuit and looked at her.

"I'm really sorry I had to break our date," he said. "I had no warning before I had to go out of town. Trust me, I would have preferred to be at dinner with you." She frowned. When someone said trust me, she usually didn't. "Especially since I spent the next two days on a bouncing transport to the other side of the world."

"Bouncing transport?" she asked. "Military transport?"

He nodded as he sipped his coffee. "They can make flying commercial seem reasonable. Hard canvas seats, no bathrooms, and MREs for your meals if you think you can keep them down. But that's questionable because you're on a plane with the worst turbulence you can imagine."

"I didn't think you were in the military," she said cautiously.

"I'm not," Tim replied. "But I work closely enough with them to get transportation on cargo planes when needed. And considering what I do, it's needed more often than not. There aren't commercial planes to a lot of the places I've been for my job."

She nodded, accepting his vague answer. But as far as she was concerned, he had all but admitted that he worked for the CIA or some other black ops organization. Well, she wasn't going to play this game any longer. If he was a spy, she didn't want anything more to do with him.

"So, you are a spy," she said.

"What?" he asked clearly shocked. She looked at him. She couldn't tell if he was shocked that she had figured him out or that shocked that she would even suggest such a thing. Tim was tired and she watched as his exhausted mind tried to put the pieces together. "What makes you think that?"

"Well you had to leave without warning," she replied as she began to doubt herself. From his expression, she was leaning towards 'he was shocked she had suggested he might be a spy.' "You couldn't explain where you were going in your message. You're really smart and charming and unassuming. And you noticed everything in the bar…"

Tim laughed causing her to frown.

"I'm sorry," he said as he wiped his face. "I'm laughing because… well because it's about as far from the truth as possible." He looked at her hopefully. "You think I'm charming?"

"Tim," she said curtly to bring him back to task. While she was reassured that he might not be a spy, she wanted the truth.

"Sorry. Tired. Easily distracted," he said contritely but he looked pleased. "When you lay out the pieces, I can see how you got to that conclusion but I am not a spy."

"You never told me what you do," she retorted. "I realize this is only the second time we've met but we've been talking for two weeks. Most people don't treat their place of employment like a national secret." He looked at her with amusement. That wasn't strictly true in Washington. A lot of people with security clearances couldn't say what they did for a living or who they worked for. "Ok, I know that's not exactly true. But that's not my point!"

Tim toyed with his coffee cup for a moment.

"I don't usually tell people where I work because I want people to get to know me for who I am not who they think I am because of my job," he said finally. "And I really didn't want to chase you away before you got the chance to know me."

She relaxed a little. "I can understand that, I guess," she said. "But what is it that you do that sent you across the world with little notice? Are you in the military?" He shook his head. "CIA? NSA?" He shook his head twice more. "Can you even tell me?"

"I can tell you," he said. "I'm a Federal Agent with NCIS," he said as he pulled back his coat, inadvertently revealing that he was armed. He pulled a badge from his belt and set it on the table. She looked at the shiny gold shield emblazoned with the words 'US Special Agent' once again surprised by Timothy McGee. She would have never predicted that he was an armed Federal Agent.

"I'm on the Major Case Response Team," he continued. "I had to go out of town on short notice because a Marine widow thought her husband had been murdered in Afghanistan. She didn't believe that he had been killed by a Taliban sniper like the reports said and brought the case to us. My boss was a marine sniper so he knew that the evidence and the report about his death didn't line up. We went to Afghanistan to investigate."

She sat back in her chair as she tried to process what he was telling her. She knew NCIS was a civilian agency that investigated crimes in the Navy and Marines. The Major Case Response Team was their top squad and they had an impressive record.

She'd even read a report about how they had tracked down a terrorist named Saleem Ulman by following a trail of luxury goods. The unconventional approach had worked and the report had been distributed to those who worked in the intelligence gathering field so that the method could be applied to other cases.

Saleem's cell had been taken out when two NCIS agents were captured while looking for his camp in Somalia. There had grumblings that NCIS had been foolish to let two of their agents poke around in such a dangerous area. But if the rumors she had heard were to be believed, they had been captured on purpose with the intent of giving their people an excuse to take down the camp. Saleem himself had been shot by a sniper before he could kill the two agents…

The names of the agents had been redacted but as she looked at Tim, for some reason, she was sure that he had been one of those agents. He might not be a spy but there was far more to him than she had suspected.

"After my boss informed me we were going to Afghanistan, I looked into transports. There was one leaving in an hour from Dover. The next one wouldn't leave for another two days and by then evidence would be even more compromised," Tim said. "We grabbed our go bags and our gear and sped to the base. I spent the whole drive on the phone trying to convince flight ops to hold the transport for us. As soon as we were loaded, the transport took off. I tried sending you text messages, but I wasn't sure they got through before I lost my cell signal on the transport."

"And you just got back?" she asked.

"Landed at four in the morning, which is when I got your texts and your voicemail," Tim said. "I'm so sorry you waited there for me."

He looked at her and she looked back at him. He looked like a puppy just hoping to be forgiven.

"Navy Criminal Investigative Service?" she asked. He nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eye. "I'm surprised you didn't explain it. Not a lot of people would know that government acronym."

"I figured that you would since you work for the DoD," Tim said with a shrug.

"You're not wrong," she said. "I haven't worked with NCIS before but the name has crossed my desk on occasion." She met his eye. "I've heard good things." He relaxed. "So, your marine, was he killed by a Taliban sniper?" she asked.

"He had been shot by a sniper," he replied as he replaced his badge. "But the sniper was a member of a private security firm that was working to redevelop empty homes. They were looting valuables that had been hidden in the houses. The marine figured it out and he was going to blow the whistle. One of them killed him to silence him."

"What happened to the killer?" she asked.

"He was killed when he shot at my boss," Tim replied. She blinked in surprised and looked at Tim, wondering if he had killed a man. "No. I didn't have an angle. But I can answer the question if you'd like," Tim said, answering her unspoken question.

"I think that answers my question," she said as she realized that she was probably looking at a man who had taken another's life. But somehow that didn't bother her like she thought it would. "You would have." He nodded. "And you have?"

He nodded.

"Does that bother you?" he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Does it bother you?" she asked to buy herself some time. She wasn't sure she could answer that without more thought.

He leaned back and lost himself in his memories.

"That's not an easy question to answer," Tim replied. "On one hand, yeah, it does because I don't like the idea of taking a life. But on the other hand, I know I didn't have a choice. I had to protect myself and my partners." He looked at her. "Still, I wish there would have been another way."

She sipped her coffee as she considered his answer. He had been refreshingly honest. He hadn't glossed over the seriousness of the question and he hadn't deflected her question either. He seemed remorseful and yet confident that he had made the right decision. She wasn't sure he meant to reveal quiet so much about himself, but she was glad he had.

"I have a feeling," she said slowly. "If there had been another way, you would have taken it."

He smiled at her. "I appreciate the faith you're showing me considering this is only the second time we've met."

And as much as she knew she was going to hate Lizzy's 'I told you so' expression, she was glad she agreed to meet Tim and hear him out. From what she had learned so far, she was looking forward to getting to know him better.

"Well," she said slowly. "You could convince me I'm right… maybe over dinner?"

"I was hoping you'd want to reschedule," he said relieved. "I wasn't sure that you would want to after I got your messages and realized you hadn't gotten mine."

"Well normally I don't like excuses but then again, I've never gotten the 'I flew to Afghanistan to catch a murderer' excuse either," she said. Taken by surprise, he laughed. "I think that's worth a second chance."

"I'd really like that," he said genuinely pleased.

"But first, I think you need to go home and sleep," she said as she looked at him with concern. "You look like a member of the walking dead."

"I feel like it," Tim admitted. "Like I said, two days on a bouncing transport there. Two days of non-stop investigation in a war zone. And two more days back on a bouncing transport. But I can't go to sleep just yet." She looked at him questioningly. "The marine's funeral is today. We, me and my partners, we are going to go to support the widow."

"That's sweet of you," she said. Tim nodded. "Then maybe tomorrow night? Same time, same place, just a week late?"

"I'd like that," Tim said happily. "I'll be there this time."

"I hope so," she said as she picked up the sunflower. "Was this meant to be a peace offering?" she asked. He nodded bashfully. "And did you pick the sunflower because its seeds are arranged in a Fibonacci sequence?"

"It is a really interesting demonstration of mathematics in the natural world," he said. She nodded. "And I was pretty sure you'd know that." She nodded again. "Plus, I think they're pretty."

"And hoping to score points for originality?" she asked.

"That wasn't my goal," he said. "But if it did, I'll take it." In spite of herself, she laughed a little. "When I was six, we were stationed at Alameda and one of our neighbors had a garden full of sunflowers. Penny, my grandmother, taught me about the Fibonacci sequence and how they follow the sun throughout the day. I was fascinated by them."

He looked at the flower, lost in his memories.

"Then my dad deployed, and I was really sad," he said. "I was still too little to understand why he had to leave. So, my neighbor gave me a seedling in a pot and Penny helped me to care for it. I was so proud when it bloomed." He smiled at his memory. "We used the seeds to grow more sunflowers. It wasn't much but watching the flowers grow gave me something to focus on and before I knew it, my father came home."

"They remind you of good memories," she said. He nodded. She looked at the flower then at Tim. She was surprised that he had shared such a personal memory. "I love sunflowers because they remind me of warmth and summer," she said. Tim perked up. "And they _are_ an interesting demonstration of a mathematical principal in the natural world."

He smiled.

"Thank you, Tim," she said. She looked at him. "Being stood up is awful," she said. He looked at her sympathetically. "Trying to figure out how long is too long to wait is the hardest part. But I'm beginning to think that a week isn't too much to ask for if it's for the right guy."

Tim looked at her and smiled with pure joy.

She sipped her coffee and smiled in return. She had a good feeling about NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee.

* * *

 _A/N: I hope you enjoyed my version of how Tim and Delilah met. I liked the idea that they didn't meet in a conventional way (Delilah being stood up by her date) and that they met in a bar, which would be the last place one would anticipate that Tim would find his soulmate. I also liked the idea that they faced a little adversity from the start and yet they both persevered to (ultimately) find happiness. Tim and Delilah have faced many trials over the course of their relationship but they come through things stronger than before. I only wish we got to see her more on the show than we do. Again, thanks for reading!_


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